From the name I’ve given this recipe, you’d expect to see edible flowers or musical notes dotted throughout the bowl, wouldn’t you? Actually, the name comes from the recipe’s original source—the Blossom Seasons Cookbook. The spiral-bound book’s title, in turn, comes from the summer home of the glorious Cleveland Orchestra. Ranked among the top ten orchestras in the world—a fact to which I can attest, having heard the orchestra many times not only at the Blossom Festival, but also at its exquisite main venue, Severance Hall, the Cleveland is a must for lovers of classical music. If you can’t get to northeast Ohio to experience their incomparable sound live (or to Miami, where, like so many snowbirds, they winter in residency), by all means get your hands on one of their many recordings. Or listen on the web via WCLV, Cleveland’s classical FM station. The beauty of listening at home is that you can crank up the sound while you prepare this delicious pasta salad.

I’ve owned this little book for what seems like forever—sticklers for the truth will want to know that “forever” in my chronology harks to the early 1980s. The actual title of the recipe, found on page 32, is “Judy and Ann’s Antipasto Salad.” But since I don’t know who Judy and Ann are, and the world has heard of the Cleveland Orchestra, I’ve taken the liberty of retitling it. The person who contributed this particular recipe to the book appears to be one Marilyn Heinl of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, the one-time assistant treasurer of the Blossom Women’s Committee. Ms. Heinl, wherever you are, thank you for sharing this delicious salad. It’s one of my favorite summertime recipes. I should point out that although the original recipe calls for 3 or more tomatoes, I omit them in my version. (You don’t mind, do you Ms. Heinl?)

Cook and drain pasta. Cut cheese, salami, pepperoni, and vegetables into small pieces. Place all ingredients (except tomatoes, if you are using them) in a large bowl. Combine oil, vinegar, and seasonings. Pour over salad and toss. Chill for 24 hours and add tomatoes (if you are using them) just before serving.

Like this:

Here’s an oldie but oh-so goodie—so much so that the card upon which I glued the clipping, stained to near illegibility, is dog-eared from close to 30 years of handling. If memory serves, this recipe, which I’ve adapted over time, originated in the (Cleveland) Plain Dealer, and was part of an article featuring different ways to prepare a variety of pastas. As so often happens when I discover a new recipe, I become so enamored of it that the thought of leaving it—even for a momentary dalliance with a thematic variation—never enters my mind. That’s the case with linguine alla pastora. I’m sure I’m missing out on the chance to enhance my repertoire, and I tell myself I’ll retire this from my rotation when I grow bored with it, but that hasn’t happened yet. Probably never will.

What makes this recipe so attractive to me? Well, it’s a great summertime pasta dish, when farmers’ markets are brimming with the fresh vegetables it requires. Also, it’s quite easy and enjoyable to make. I love the aromas that fill the kitchen when I saute the ingredients for this meal. And, truth be told, I’m a sucker for compliments. This comes as a shock, I know. But seriously, every time I’ve served this dish, whether for family or friends, it gets raves. Positive reinforcement is a powerful thing.

The only step in this recipe that might give you pause is the call for roasted red peppers. Oh sure, you can buy them in a jar at your local specialty market, but why would you when they’re so easy to prepare? I’ll explain how to roast red peppers at the end of this post. For now, join me as I walk you through one of my favorite pasta dishes, the rustic Linguine alla Pastora, or, if you will, the Shepherdess’ Linguine.

You would do well to roast the red peppers first so they have a chance to cool while you’re preparing the rest of the ingredients. Instructions can be found at the end of this post.

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil.

While the water is coming to the boil. heat olive oil in a 12-inch saute-pan. Add onion, garlic, zucchini, and pancetta, and cook at medium heat for five minutes, or until onion is transparent.

Add pasta to the boiling water and cook until al dente.While the pasta is cooking, add wine to the sauteed vegetables and reduce at high heat for five minutes. Lower heat to medium, and add parsley and red pepper slices. Season with peppers and cook five minutes longer.

When the pasta is cooked to your liking, drain and reserve.

When the saute is ready, place about half of the cooked pasta in a large serving bowl and toss with about half of the saute. Add the remainder of the pasta and saute and toss well. Top with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (I believe there’s no such thing as too much Parmigiano-Reggiano) and serve.

*If you cannot find pancetta, you may substitute prosciutto. I’ve also made this with fresh sauteed sea scallops, omitting the Italian meat entirely.

**How to Roast Red Peppers

After washing the peppers, dry them and place them on a rack under the broiler element of your oven. (Don’t place them directly on the removable rack that comes with your oven; use something similar to what is shown in the photograph and place that on the removable rack. Also, I place the oven rack fairly close to the heating element.) What follows is very important and can’t be over-emphasized: keep an eye on the peppers while you are roasting them. Don’t leave the kitchen to tend to something else. You want to be nearby to (carefully) turn them with tongs as they begin to char so they are nicely roasted on all sides. The entire procedure should not take more than ten minutes, depending upon the size of the peppers and how close to the heat you’ve placed them.

After removing the roasted peppers from the oven, very carefully wrap each one in a paper towel. They will be hot to handle, so you might want to wait a moment or two until you can comfortably perform this step.

Place each wrapped pepper in a small plastic bag and set aside while you tend to other aspects of your recipe. So cossetted, they will steam nicely, making it much easier for you to remove their skins.

After about 15 minutes or so, rouse the peppers from their little sleeping bags. I run them under cold water to a) make them easier to handle, since they’re still quite warm, and b) begin rubbing and pulling at the charred skin to peel it off. Using your fingers, pull the skin away from the peppers, then remove the stem and seeds. (A vegetable peeler won’t work.) After the peppers are limp, empty shells of what they used to be, slice them into strips. That’s it. You’re done!

One of the first posts that I ever wrote as The Midlife Second Wife, nearly one year ago, included reference to a book. So profoundly have books influenced my life that it doesn’t seem enough to fill our home with them, bring volumes back from the library, or download tomes to my Kindle. No, I need a place on the blog—a library, if you will—where the books that have been important enough to me to mention in my posts can be found readily by my own readers.

Today I bring you An Open Book: The Midlife Second Wife’s Library. I do not bring it to you complete, because it will take some time for me to stack the shelves, so to speak. And it will be an evolving project, with new titles added all the time. So I ask your patience while I get this new project underway.

The title for the blog’s newest page comes from a favorite book of mine, Michael Dirda‘s An Open Book: Coming of Age in the Heartland. I’ve recommended this book to so many people that not only have I lost count, it seems I should share in the royalties. The book is, quite simply, wonderful. It’s the lively story of a young boy coming of age in Lorain, Ohio (my late mother’s hometown, by the way), who discovers the joy of reading, and how that passion changes his life. Born into a world where the majority of its inhabitants work either at the steel plant (as Dirda did for a time) or the shipyards, Dirda breaks free from that blue-collar cycle and enters Oberlin College. (I’m also an Oberlin graduate, although I attended some years after Dirda.)

The young reader continues his studies, going on to earn a Ph.D. in comparative literature from Cornell University, and parlays his passion for the written word into a career reviewing books, ultimately becoming a senior editor at The Washington Post, where he won a Pulitzer Prize for criticism. Rich with anecdotes, Dirda’s book happily romps through some of the titles that he has savored, and ends by sending the reader off not with just any reading list, but with his own, sagely compiled when he was 16-years-old.

Admittedly, this book is an exercise in nostalgia for me; I remember many of the places that Dirda recalls. And while our youthful taste in titles might have differed, I am in complete accord with Dirda’s thesis: that reading is the key to becoming the person you are meant to become.

The open book depicted in the photo illustrating this post (and the new blog page) is, appropriately, Dirda’s An Open Book. If you’re casting about for something good to read this summer, I highly recommend it. There, I’ve done it again.

I actually remember the first time I ever made these cupcakes. It was the summer of 1976, and I was a lithe young thing who never gave a second thought to such concepts as carbohydrates, fat grams, or weight gain. Ah, the ignorance of youth!

I’m guessing at the recipe’s provenance, but it could have been clipped from the (Cleveland, Ohio) Plain Dealer. A recipe prowler even at such a tender age, I was organized enough to type my finds on 5×7 index cards, but not so organized as to include their origins for future attribution. My coinage of the term “scissor-worthy” was decades away. And, since the Internet as we know it was not yet conceived, it would have come as a surprise to me that someday I would be able to share this recipe’s glories with untold readers on something called a blog. Ah, the joys of food-time travel!

For some inexplicable reason, I craved these cupcakes yesterday, and so they became part of our 4th of July menu, which was shared at the home of friends. But you don’t need a national holiday to enjoy their deep, dark, chocolate-y goodness, or the richness of their moist texture. Check your pantry to make sure you have these ingredients on hand, because I promise you: you want to make these. And soon. Enjoy!

Place muffin liners in muffin pan. Fill each 2/3 full of batter, then drop a teaspoon of cream cheese mixture in the center. Bake at 350-degrees for 30 to 35 minutes. Cool on rack. Yields two to two and one-half dozen small cupcakes or one dozen large cupcakes. The recipe says that these freeze well when wrapped in aluminum foil, but for some reason, I’ve never had the chance to freeze them. I wonder why?